


Journals

by sixxon



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, M/M, Modern AU, Soulmate AU, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-26
Updated: 2017-04-26
Packaged: 2018-10-24 08:00:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10737498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sixxon/pseuds/sixxon
Summary: Everyone has a journal in which they can write to, and receive letters from, their soulmates. Unfortunately for Lance, his soulmate never replies.





	Journals

Lance’s house had a wonderfully overgrown garden. Despite having so many sibling and family members always around, no one but Lance tended to the garden, and Lance was a terrible botanist. Sure, he could take care of the bushes, they only needed to be trimmed. The fruit trees? Easy- water, sunshine, and good soil. The flowers? Just water. Yet, somehow, Lance had barely touched anything, letting each plant spread to it’s own desire, quickly crowding the garden.

Lance’s siblings never set foot in the garden, they said it was creepy. Lance had to agree. All but the tops of the artisan stone benches that his parent’s had bought in sixties was covered in moss. The white rod-iron patio set that probably belonged to Lance’s grandmother in the twenties was rusty as well. It was very silent and still, unnervingly so if Lance wasn’t used to it.

The well in the garden was equally as unruly. Moss crept up the aged cobblestone and wooden roof, making it look like something out of a dark Ghibli movie. There was probably water in it, but Lance didn’t really know. The rope to pull up the old well bucket had snapped years ago, causing the bucket to fall down somewhere into the well.

The trees in the garden, numerous in variety, were as unruly as the hedge bushes. Lances favourite tree, a willow planted by a previous owner, was massive and had a broken down wooden bench circling the tree. He often sat in the soft grass there.

But, if his siblings didn’t want to go in the garden then that was fine by Lance, he liked having it as his own space since he shared a room with his older brother.

The garden was the only place where Lance could write to his soulmate.

Lance didn’t know much about his soulmate, the only thing they had written on their side of the book was some random doodles (all horrible) and one time, a grocery list.

_\- Soy Milk_

\- _Eggs_

_\- Dish soap_

The words were immortalized on the page. Lance found that a little ridiculous. The first words ever written by his soulmate and one of them was _eggs_. Not to mention his soulmate had terrible hand writing.

The truth was Lance had no clue if they even read the things he wrote to them. Lance didn’t write every day of his life, if he had then the book would fill up and erase itself; Lance definitely didn’t want that.

Today was a rough day for Lance though, so he was in the garden. His brother had woken him up at four A.M by grabbing one of the hens from the enclosure and loosing it directly on top of Lance’s face. It would have been funny if Bethany, the hen, hadn’t scratched a huge gash in his face next to his ear. His brother panicked, reasonably so, and nearly died in his quest to reach the first aid kit. A quest that, consequentially, woke his father who thought there was a burglar.

When his father saw him, face bloodied, he immediately panicked. It took his mother waking up and calming him down with the help of Lance’s little sister to finally de-escalate the situation. Obviously James, Lance’s older brother, was scolded and forced to catch Bethany, which took an hour.

After that, Lance’s parents took him to the hospital. The wait in the emergency ward was long because some idiot had managed to shoot himself in the thigh via the ricochet effect. Luckily the nurse said Lance only needed two stitches and that, with proper care, the scar it would leave would be gone in a few years. After that, he was given pain medication that caused him to pass out on the living room couch for five hours and wake up with a wicked headache. A headache not helped by the screaming and shouting of his collective siblings.

So, Lance had grabbed his soulmate journal and went to the garden to write.

_Hey, it’s Lance again, though you know that obviously. My day was shit. I had to go to emergency at 5 am because my idiot brother put an angry chicken on my face. I needed stitches and now I’ll have a scar – thanks James, #MVB (B is brother). The drugs they gave me worked, probably too well actually._

_Y’know my dad actually thought I was beat up by a burglar? Lol it was so funny. Well, not at the time, but it is now._

_It was kinda funny though, some ~~poeple~~ people in emerg are there for such stupid things. Some dude actually shot his own leg by accident by managing to bounce the bullet off something. The nurse seemed so stunned, though she’s new so I can’t blame her._

_I know pretty much all the nurses at that hospital, there’s only about twenty of them, it’s a small town after all. Oh! Grace gave me my stitches, she’s the nicest nurse imo, she gave me a lollipop._

Lance paused, he didn’t know what else to write about his day. He looked down at the page and felt like he should write more. Honestly, he always felt that way. He thought that maybe if he wrote more then his soulmate would write back, but they never did. So instead of dwelling, Lance just wrote out his usual goodbye.

_Talk to you soon, see you maybe._

_\- Lance_

Lance sighed and closed the journal. Taking a deep breath as he closed his eyes, he turned the book over and opened up his soulmate’s side. The same pictures and words as always stared back at him.

_\- Soy Milk_

_\- Eggs_

_\- Dish soap_

Lance’s mouth pressed into a thin line as he touched the words with his fingertips. How long ago was it that this was written? Maybe three years ago? Why would his soulmate have written a grocery list in his soulmate journal to begin with? His eyes trailed over to the pictures. Lance honestly wasn’t sure what they were meant to be, one looked like a bird, another a face with indistinguishable features, and the third was just a bunch of random scribbles and dots.

Suddenly, Lance’s eyes were drawn back to the grocery list. The same scratchy handwriting as the list moved across the page. Lance’s heart raced as he watched the words of his soulmate form.

_It’s not that hard to shoot yourself in the leg._

Lance sucked in a sharp breath as he let out a small laugh, pressing a hand to his forehead as he threw his head back. This was the first thing he had to say after three years and a grocery list?

Lance grabbed his pen and flipped over to his side of the book with shaking hands and a giddy feeling in his stomach.

 _Speaking from experience?_ Lance wrote in the best handwriting he could manage before he flipped the book over again.

After a few minutes, his soulmate wrote back, _no... sorry, I took too much medicine earlier._

 _Hey, what’s your name?_ Lance wrote bravely, if a little messily.

And Lance waited, and waited, and waited, and when twenty minutes passed Lance threw his pen across the garden with a loud, frustrated grunt. He shut the book harshly and locked it with the key around his neck. Lance tossed the book aside, flinching at the loud thump it made as it hit the pebbles of the gravel pathway that snaked through the garden.

Lance flopped back into the tall grass he had been sitting on. He regarded the bits of the night sky that poked themselves through the branches of the willow tree. He wondered if his soulmate was looking at the stars too.

Before he had noticed, Lance had fallen asleep to the sound of the gentle breeze against the grass and to the smell of the nature around him.

-

_Keith._

What was he? Stupid? As soon as he wrote it he felt that way. Keith had ignored Lance for _years_ and yet here he was, sitting in his run down, wooden house just getting Lance’s hopes up. It wasn’t that Keith wasn’t happy to have Lance, of course he was happy. Sure, he wrote too much and had a tendency to complain sometimes, but in the end his notes always made Keith feel better.

Even now he felt better; though, it could have been the drugs. Keith sighed and adjusted the pillow under his leg. The coincidence was sort of funny. Just as Lance had seen some stranger in the ER with a bullet in his leg, Keith had one too. If his brother, Shiro, hadn’t been by earlier to take him to the ER so he could patch him up, Keith would have probably ended up using his own botched stitches on his leg. He couldn’t just ride his bike with a bullet in his leg after all.

Shiro had taken him home as well, though Keith didn’t remember because he had fallen asleep in the car. Shiro was probably also the one who dug up his soulmate journal from under the loose floor boards and put it on Keith’s desk. How Shiro knew where to look for it was beyond Keith, but it was Shiro, and Shiro could do pretty much anything.

When he had woken up, his head and leg throbbed in unison, so he took some more pain killers, probably more than he should have but, hey, whatever works right? So, Keith blamed the drugs for his lapse in control.

Keith looked around the room. The floors were just as dirty as they had always been. Keith wasn’t much for cleaning, or even cooking for that matter. The amount of empty instant meal boxes and containers he had thrown out in the last week was uncountable. He also never bothered to take his shoes off until he planned to put his feet up or go to bed. Even if he wasn’t wearing his boots, he had some sandals he wore around the house.

The loose floorboard he had hidden his journal under was propped up against the wall and Keith thought begrudgingly about how he would have to put it back lest he fall in the hole. He groaned, deciding to leave it until tomorrow when he would actually need to get up and move around.

To say Keith’s house was shabby was an understatement. It would have looked practically abandoned if it weren’t for the recently eaten Mr. Noodle cups on the counter.

There wasn’t even a bedroom, let alone a bed. Keith always slept on the large couch he had bought at a garage sale in town with Shiro. It was about the width of a twin size bed and was long enough for even Shiro to lay down on without worry. The only issues were the stains (which Keith had tried to wash out, to no avail) and a hole in the back of the couch that Keith had covered with an old flannel tablecloth he found.

Sure, he could afford a bed, but the only other separate room besides the kitchen was the bathroom that conjoined with his laundry room. Keith didn’t really make much money, but he did make enough to have already paid off the mortgage, cheap as it was.

Keith looked at the coffee table next to his bed and let his eyes wander to the journal that laid upon it. With hesitancy, Keith picked up the hard leather bound book and unlocked it with the key around his neck.

Lance hadn’t written back, but Keith always liked reading Lance’s letters. His handwriting was always so nice. He opened the book and let it fall on a letter Lance had written last year.

_Hey, it’s Lance. I know I haven’t written in a few weeks, though you probably didn’t notice I guess…_

Keith had noticed.

_Anyway there is a reason. My brother crashed the car, so he’s been in the hospital for a while. I was with him most of the time… it was kinda my fault, I kept distracting him… but yeah I didn’t have my journal obviously. I usually write in my garden too, so I haven’t been there in a while, not that I garden, I’m just the only one in my family who hangs out there…_

_I’d like to show you some day. Though who knows, maybe I’ll have killed all the plants by then lol._

_I wish I could draw so I could show you, I don’t think putting photos in the book works, I googled it a while ago._

_Talk to you seen, see you maybe._

_\- Lance_

Keith smiled as he caressed the page gently. He would be lying if he said he wasn’t in love with Lance. Every letter Lance wrote was so genuine, almost therapeutic. It was probably nice for him to vent, knowing someone might be listening even if they didn’t reply.

Keith felt guilty about it. It wasn’t that he didn’t _want_ to write to Lance, he just worried that Lance would stop writing to him like he had been for so many years. It was an intimacy that Keith felt was fragile in nature. Surely, Keith was probably the biggest idiot on the continent. It would be so easy for him to write to Lance, to write his address in the journal and meet him the next day. However, Lance had never done that. Lance talked about everything, but he never named places. It was like some kind of unspoken rule.

Keith closed the book again and set it down beside him. _Maybe_ , he thought as he started to fall asleep again, _maybe I’ll get Shiro to look at my leg again later_.

- 

When Lance woke up in his own bed, he was understandably confused. He turned onto his side and flinched at the sharp pain he got from his stitches. There was a sticky note on his alarm clock.

_I found you in the garden after you didn’t come back for dinner. You’re too heavy._

_-James_

Lance smiled at the note and looked at the time. The red LED screen read “9:00.” He sat up a bit and looked over to James’ bed, it was empty. Knowing his brother, James was probably playing Mario Kart with Maria or something. Meanwhile, Lance’s stomach growled.

Right, he hadn’t eaten all day, of course he was hungry.

Lance begrudgingly got out of bed and sauntered down the stairs to the kitchen.

“Oh, look who’s awake,” it was Anna, Lance’s oldest sister. “Finally ready to eat?”

Lance gave her a lopsided grin. Anna was his favourite sister. “Definitely,” he said. “What’s on the menu?”

“Cold pizza,” she joked. “There’s also a microwave, so do with that what you will.”

Lance laughed gently, “cold pizza is the best, the idea that you would taint it with a microwave is a heinous act.”

Anna rolled her eyes, “at least I don’t eat pineapple on my pizza like James.”

Lance nodded thoughtfully, “your only redeeming quality.”

Anna smiled tightly, “at least I _have_ a redeeming quality.”

“I resent that!”

Anna giggled as she took the pizza out of the fridge for Lance and turned on the toaster oven. “Says the boy who spends all his time in a garden he can’t take care of.”

Lance crossed his arms, “it takes care of itself,” he looked at the toaster oven, “you don’t need to set it so high, a hundred will be fine.”

Anna shrugged, “whatever you say.” She leaned back on the counter, “what do you do out there anyways? Jason even carried your dead weight back to the house today.”

Lance didn’t say anything. Thankfully, the miniature oven dinged and Lance tossed in a few slices of pizza and set the timer for ten minutes, devoting an unnecessary amount of focus to it.

“Lance,” Anna said, “answer my question.”

“Nothing, just,” Lance sighed. “I write in my journal.”

“Oh, is that it? I write in mine all the time, it’s not embarrassing.”

“Yeah I know you do, but your soulmate actually replied,” Lance said back, venom on his tongue.

Anna rolled her eyes, “maybe they’re nervous to talk to you, scared I guess.”

“As if, they probably just think I’m annoying,” Lance mumbled.

Anna crossed her arms, “Lance, they do not. Reanne used to think she annoyed me, too.”

Lance ignored her and changed the subject, “when are you going to meet her anyways, you’ve known each other’s names for years, it’s stupid how you’ve never met.”

“I don’t know,” she sighed, “and it’s none of your business.” She looked over at the toaster oven, “don’t you dare eat that in the garden,” she said as she pointed to the pizza in the oven. “There’s supposed to be a thunderstorm tonight and I don’t wanna have to search for your stupid body because you decided to take another nap outside.”

Without another word, Anna walked out of the kitchen. Lance could tell he’d ticked her off, he knew she didn’t like to talk about Reanne with him or any of their other siblings. She said it was private when Lance had asked once.

The oven dinged and Lance grabbed a mitt to take the pizza out. After placing it down on the counter, Lance decided to get a drink while he let the pizza cool a little bit. It was late, so he couldn’t make a smoothie like he normally would. Instead, he decided to make a vanilla milkshake with the vanilla ice cream in the freezer. It wouldn’t be as good as usual because he couldn’t use the blender, but it wasn’t that bad. Lance grabbed the first slice of his pizza and began to eat as he sat at the island counter in his kitchen.

Thunder boomed outside and suddenly lance could hear the heavy sheets of rain hitting the roof of his house. He always enjoyed the rain, thunder too. Something about the sounds of nature, violent or not, always put Lance at ease when he felt on edge. His head still throbbed where Bethany had scratched him. He hoped she and the rest of the chickens were doing okay in their coop. They had sat through a few storms before, but as the wind outside began to wail with speed he felt a little bad for them. Luckily they were too far inland for a hurricane; the weather this morning didn’t call for tornado warnings either.

Something about this storm reminded him of his soulmate earlier. When he wrote back, it had struck Lance like lightning in the middle of a clear day.

After Lance finished his food and finished putting his dishes away, he walked up to his room to see where James had put his journal.

Logically, Lance thought he would have put it on his dresser, desk, or bedside table, but it was nowhere in sight. Now frantic, Lance rifled through all his drawers and inside his closet. He even looked under his bed; useless since his bedframe was built to be pressed down to the floor.

Not a moment too late, James walked in, “what are you doing?” he asked, observing the massive mess that Lance had made on his side of the room.

“Where did you put my journal?!” Lance shouted impatiently.

There was a beat of silence before James said, “what?”

Lance’s heart froze as he stammered out, “outside… when you found me, what did you do with my journal?”

James’ eyes widened, “oh my god, Lance, I didn’t know you brought it out there.”

Lance’s heart leeched as he ripped a jacket off his bed post, not listening when James yelled for him to stop. Sheer adrenalin kept Lance’s wound from searing in pain, though he knew if he stopped moving his legs would start shaking violently from the adrenalin. His feet tore through the house, unyielding. He faintly heard his dad yell for him not to go outside, but Lance couldn’t hear it.

He felt like he was underwater. He wasn’t moving fast enough. How long had it been in the rain? Did he lock it? He couldn’t remember. What if all the pages were torn out of the bindings? Where did he throw it before he fell asleep that James didn’t see it? Lance’s heart pounded like a loudspeaker in his chest that pumped lightning through his veins.

The wind practically whipped away at Lance’s clothes; it was almost as if the world was telling him to go back to his house. The wind tore tears from Lance’s eyes as he forced his way through with all the speed he could muster. Lance wished he had grabbed a better coat, the thin, loose sleeves of this one flapped violently in the wind as the offending, wet fabric pinched at Lance’s skin.

Just as he was nearing the willow tree, which was shaking violently from the wind, Lance tripped over an exposed root and barely managed to block his face from the gravel with his forearms. Lance shouted out in pain as he rolled onto his side for a moment and pulled a sleeve back to check his arm. There was blood and pieces of gravel stuck in his skin where the rocks had cut through the cheap fabric of his jacket.

Lance grunted as he pushed himself off the ground, clutching his stinging arms around his body as he pushed his way past the wind. Lance tried to look around as he raised one arm over his eyes to see better, but he was still squinting firmly from the wind.

There, near the broken down bench around the willow tree, was a black smudge that broke apart the narrow gravel pathway. Lance scrambled towards it, falling to his knees as he picked up the leather book from the ground. It was soaking wet and had gravel embedded into the leather from when he had thrown it earlier. He hugged the book so tightly to his chest that it made the pain in his arms so intense it was like they were practically begging him to stop. Lance hunched over the precious book as he let the wind blow away his tears.

With his body as a shield from the wind, Lance carefully unlocked the journal to look at his soulmate’s words. They stood stark against the ivory paper, their words clear despite the messy handwriting and the water damage. Lance’s breath hitched as he read the new word.

_Keith._

Lance cried out. Hugging the open journal to his chest as his tears pooled in his eyes, only to be stolen by the storm.

Without warning, the wind knocked Lance over, his head making impact with the ground first.

-

“Lance?!”

                                    “Lance!”

            “Lance!!?”

                                                            “Lance, where are you?!”

- 

When Lance came too, he was lying across a bench in the ER waiting room, his head on someone’s lap. Lance tried to raise is head, but flinched in pain.

“Hey, don’t get up,” Anna said. “Just close your eyes and go back to sleep, you massive idiot.”

Lance chuckled, though it hurt, “sorry,” he said softly.

“Is Lance awake?” it was Maria. Maria leaned her head over Lance’s so he could see her and she smiled broadly, “how do you feel?”

Lance shrugged awkwardly but smiled back, “stellar, you don’t have to worry about your big bro.”

“Hey! If you’re up, then apologize for freaking us out!” James yelled as he stomped over to Lance.

Lance turned his head to look at him just as his mother yelled, “Jamison Edward McClain! Don’t yell in a hospital!”

James flinched and scratched the back of his head, “s-sorry…” he said, even though his mom was being a hypocrite.

Lance heard his mom murmur something like, “honestly…” but he didn’t catch the rest because she turned back to whoever she was talking to, probably doctor Shirogane, he usually worked the night shift.

“He patched you up while you were passed out,” Anna explained. “He didn’t give you any medicine because you were already in earlier and can’t have any more for a while.”

Lance hummed, “who carried me?”

“Dad carried you to the car and into the ER. After that they put you on a gurney.”

“Where’s my journal?”

Anna glared at him, annoyed because the journal was the cause of all this, but still said, “it’s on the table next to you.”

Lance groaned as he sat up, clutching his head as he ignored the protests from his sisters. He slowly reached over to the book and opened it. Obviously it wasn’t locked since he had passed out with it open.

He tried smoothed out the wrinkled open pages as he read aloud softly, “Keith.”

“What?” A low voice from behind him said.

Lance turned around slowly. Standing behind him with wide, brilliant purple eyes and an ungodly haircut was the guy from earlier, the one who shot his own leg. Lance stared up at him, slack jawed with dried blood all over his face.

“What did you say?” The boy said again.

Lance closed his mouth and opened it again, unable to form words as he shakily held up the open page of his journal and said one of the words he had memorized for three years, “eggs.”

The man’s eyes bulged as he read the water damaged paper. “Lance?” he asked softly.

Lance shot up from his seat as he shouted, “Keith!” It was probably _too_ fast, because the blood rush immediately made Lance pass out again.

-

When Lance came to he was still in the the ER, only this time when he looked around he found that he was in the doctor’s office. Lance raised his head to look over his feet and there, sitting in one of the guest chairs, was Keith.

“Keith…” Lance groaned lucidly.

Keith immediately shot up from the chair and limped over to Lance’s side. “How are you feeling?” he said.

Without skipping a beat, Lance grabbed Keith’s hand and said, “man, I really fell hard for you, didn’t I?”

Keith grunted and Lance smiled when Keith’s face turned red, “you have a fever,” he said. “The first word you said to me was ‘egg.’”

Lance hummed and grinned, “mhm, soy milk, eggs, and dish soap.” Keith sighed but his breath hitched when Lance tightened his grip on Keith’s hand. “Why didn’t you write back?” Lance asked weakly.

Keith frowned, unable to look Lance in the eyes, “I-”

“You don’t want a soulmate?” Lance asked weakly as he let go of Keith’s hand.

“No!” Keith shouted, making Lance flinch, “I mean, no I want one, you, I— just… hold on,” Keith pinched the bridge of his nose and then let go to grab Lance’s hand again, “I’m not good at— I didn’t want you to stop writing your long letters…”

Lance’s eyes widened before he burst out laughing. His laughter quickly turned to coughs and Keith helped Lance sit upright as he patted Lance gently of the back.

“You thought that I wouldn’t write you?” Lance said as he laughed breathlessly. “You’re my soulmate, why would I ever? I’m not like you.” Keith sneered at Lance’s comment, even if it was true. “You left me hanging for eight-teen years, dude… if you don’t count the grocery list.”

“Please don’t, that was an accident.”

“Also what’s with your hair?” Lance asked.

“What about my hair? My hair is fine.”

Lance looked at Keith skeptically, “right…”

“Seriously! What’s wrong with my hair?!” Keith yelled.

Suddenly the office door opened, causing Keith to jump back. “Keith, don’t yell at concussed patients.” It was doctor Shirogane.

Shiro came over and pressed a hand to Lance’s forehead as he said, “sorry about my brother,” before saying, “your fever seems to have gone down, so you’re free to go.”

Lance spared a quick glance at Keith, to which Keith said, “I’ll write you… I promise.”

Lance sighed in relief and said, “thanks, I’d prefer to talk to you when I’m not bloody and delusional.”

-

And write, Keith had. From that day in the ER and on, Lance and Keith never spent a day where they didn’t speak to each other, be it in person, over the phone, or in their journals. It was hard for Keith to adjust to having someone around all the time, but it was easy for Lance. Lance had even helped Keith clean his house after he finished healing. Lance also cooked him dinner that night. Lance wasn’t the best cook, no one could beak his mom after all, but he was leagues better than Keith who didn’t even know how to turn on his own oven.

Keith and Lance bickered a lot, but they were never sinister in nature when they fought; it was mostly competitive.

Lance was over at Keith’s house just like he was most nights. They had known each other for a few weeks now, and Lance had cooked countless meals for his soulmate. While Lance was stirring the soup he was making, he felt something warm slip around his waist. It made Lance’s heart thump. It was Keith of course; he was half asleep. Lance was surprised because Keith had yet to even show a hit of affection towards him besides during their banter.

“Keith,” Lance said with a shaky voice.

Keith hummed, but then seemed to wake up and jumped back from Lance, “sorry, I was—”

Keith had pushed Lance when he jumped back, which had caused Lance to lose his balance.

“No it— AAGH!” Lance screamed as his hand landed on the hot stove element.

“Shit! Stay there!” Keith yelled as he ran out of the room for the first aid kit.

Lance groaned as he nodded, watching Keith go. Lance turned on the cold water tap and immediately stuck his hand under it, wincing at the feeling before settling into it.

Keith ran back into the room and slammed the first aid kit onto the counter, it made a loud _clang_ as it hit the wooden kitchen table. Keith flipped the lid open and pulled out some polysporin and some gauze.

“Wait, Keith,” Lance said, making Keith head snap up from the kit. “Do you have ice?”

Keith immediately knew what he meant and pulled a mixing bowl out from the cupboard before opening the freezer and dumping all the ice into the bowl. Lance slowly and regretfully pulled his hand out of the cool stream of water so Keith could fill the bowl. After he finished, Lance grabbed the bowl and stuck his hand in, sighing in relief as he did.

While Lance moved to sit at the table, Keith turned off the stove quickly before grabbing a clean washcloth and sitting at the table with Lance.  

“Lance, I’m—” Keith started, only to be cut off by Lance.

“No, no, no— nope, don’t start.”

“But—”

“Nope!” Lance said. “Keith, honestly, it’s fine.”

“But I burned—”

“Keith the only type of burn you give me is heart burn,” Lance said suavely.

“I-” Keith let out a growl, “Lance, this is serious,” he said even though his face was bright red.

“You’ve seen me worse,” Lance smiled.

Keith looked down silently. For a few minutes, they sat in silence until Keith heard Lance pull his hand from it’s ice-bath.

“Do you mind?” he asked as he held his hand out to Keith.

Keith nodded and gently dabbed the burn dry, Lance winced every time he did. After Keith decided Lance’s hand was dry enough, he opened up the polysporin and gently smoothed it over the burn. Lance thought it felt nice.

Gently, Keith began to wrap the gauze around Lance’s hand. As soon as he finished and before he could pull away, Lance grabbed Keith hand with his good one. Keith flinched, but didn’t pull away.

Lance smiled at him, “don’t blame yourself, okay?”

Without a second thought or hesitation, Keith yanked on Lance’s hand, knocking over the ice-water, which made a spectacular mess, as he pulled Lance’s face closer to meet his own and kissed him.

The kiss was short, a little messy, and Lance moved his hand up to Keith’s jaw but before he could, Keith let go of Lance, “sorry I—”

Lance cupped Keith’s face gently with both his hands, “idiot,” he said affectionately as he pulled Keith back to him for another kiss.

When they parted, Keith looked like he was about to ask why, but Lance was a step ahead of him.

“You’re my soulmate, you idiot, I love you.”

Keith’s eyes widened for a moment before he put his hands on Lance’s face, “I love you, too.”

**Author's Note:**

> I hope y'all like this! I wrote it to push past some writers block I've been having.  
> If you wanna find me elsewhere I'm @sixxon everywhere. If you want me to see something on tumblr please tag me in it if you like!


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